


Together We Can Do Great Things

by experimentalwritings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/F, F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Tapes, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24225208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/experimentalwritings/pseuds/experimentalwritings
Summary: Alternate title: Sweet Pea and Betty make a porno.When Betty shows up and gets him to sign a contract Sweet Pea assumes he’s still asleep.He’s very wrong.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Sweet Pea
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Together We Can Do Great Things

**Together We Can Do Great Things**

While it’s happening, it doesn’t quite feel real.

At first, Sweet Pea assumed he must be asleep. He’d had plenty of dreams like that before. Betty Cooper might have been spoken for, and generally kind of annoying, but she’s also really fucking hot. 

She features in several of Sweet Pea’s favorite fantasies. Sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by one or more of her friends. He’s imagined fucking her bouncy tits, has pictured holding her legs spread wide, his cock shiny with her juices as he slides it in and out of her tight cunt. He’d heard the stories about her and Veronica and, like any teenage boy, had pictured himself in the middle of that sandwich.

Well, technically, in his imagination, he’s a piece of bread. Betty’s usually in the middle, moaning while he fucks her roughly from behind, the sounds muffled while her tongue’s working Veronica’s clit. Or Betty’s perfect ass is wrapped around his cock while she grinds against Veronica’s thigh.

And so on.

Those might be his very favorite. 

Sweet Pea would never admit that he’s into the good girl thing. That the idea of ripping off one of Betty’s stupid fuzzy sweaters and shoving up her prim little skirts gets him so hard. She’s a little wild, under it all. That’s fueled many quick jerk offs in the shower. Would she like it a little rough? She’d be pretty, tied up and begging to come. 

His dreams never start with her showing up and talking about research. They never involve him signing and initialing a stack of paperwork. 

She’s a little bossy in some of them, sure. So when she’d started ordering him around, had him go out to her car and lug in a suitcase, he’d rolled with it.

A half hour later his kitchen had been better lit than ever before and there’d been two tripods, fancy looking cameras perched on each.

The cameras had featured in a jerk off session or two or twelve. And if he favors blondes on PornHub, that’s between him and his browser history.

Sweet Pea never would have done anything about the dreams.

The Southside Serpents are loyal, it’s how they’d survived when the rest of Riverdale wrote them off as trash. Jughead might be at school across the country, working on a novel supported by a pile of scholarships, but Sweet Pea (and everyone else) assume he and Betty will end up together.

Though, admittedly, by the time Betty’s on her knees on his kitchen floor, enthusiastically sucking his cock, he isn’t thinking about Jug.

He’s stopped thinking about Jug right around the time Betty’s dress had come off, when she’d backed him into the cupboards and palmed him through his jeans.

He’s not thinking much of anything other than fervent wishes that, if it is a dream, he stay asleep for as long as possible. For for his alarm to stay quiet. It would be a damn shame to be yanked into consciousness before he can come.

She’d gotten him hard with her hand, stroking him over his jeans, all of her warm soft curves pressed against him. She’d made encouraging noises when he’d cupped a breast, her nipple had tightened under the rubbing of his thumb. Betty had stripped him out of his shirt, then planted wet kisses down the length of his torso. He’d been panting when she’d gotten to his waistband, gripping the counter behind him when she’d knelt. She’d hummed in pleasure when she’d pulled his jeans down, wrapped her hand around the base of his cock.

“You are big. I’d hoped so.”

He hadn’t had time to process because Betty had then proceeded to give him the best blow job of his life.

She’d licked his length, her clever tongue stopping to tease every single sensitive spot she’d found. She’d teased him with her full lips, dragging them over the tip, along the pulsing vein that ran the underside of his cock. His legs had been shaking, his stomach drawn tight, by the time she’d opened her mouth and sucked him down.

So far down.

Only to pull back, sucking hard, her mouth hot and wet and so fucking perfect. She’d stared at him the whole time, her eyes bright and knowing. Taunting him as she’d advanced and retreated, as his cock had thickened on her tongue and he’s tried to remember high school algebra to keep from embarrassing himself.

She’s wearing black lingerie, strappy and complicated looking, probably expensive. She’d shown up with a wig hiding her blonde hair, almost black, the cut angular and severe. She’s been wearing wine coloured lipstick but that’s gone now.

Rubbed off on his cock or by the saliva dripping from her lips, Sweet Pea doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. She’s slowed way down, pulling off of him so her tongue can swirl teasingly over the swollen head of his cock. He reaches for her, instinctively wanting to thread his fingers through her hair. To urge her to finish him.

Betty rears back, her gaze sharpening. “Hey! Mind the wig.” His hand drops - he’s so not willing to piss her off - but she grabs it. “Actually, you know what?”

She doesn’t finish the question but she sets his hand on her throat. She’s no longer looking at him, her brows slanting down in concentration. Her laptop’s on the floor, outside of the shot.

Sweet Pea makes a noise he’s not proud of, low and pleading. Betty doesn’t seem to hear.

Her lips twist, like she’s deep in thought. She sits up slightly, yanking at the lace cups of her bra until her breasts until her breasts spill out, the top of her pink nipple visible. “Hmm, better. But what if I...”

His cock is throbbing and, if he doesn’t come in the next two minutes or so, his balls are going to ache something awful.

So maybe this is really happening. He’d never torture himself like this.

She widens her thighs and Sweet Pea almost chokes when he spots the slit in the crotch of the skimpy lace panties she wears. She leans back, rests her weight on one hand. The other drifts down her stomach, “You’re kind of the target demo here. What do you think? Should I be touching myself or are more guys going to click if this all about you?”

He stares down at her, disbelieving. Can she actually expect an answer?

Apparently yes. Betty doesn’t move, not to continue what she’d started with his cock, nor to slide her fingers into her folds.

In a perfect world, she’ll do both. Betty’s a perfectionist. She’s got to be good at multi tasking. 

Sweet Pea takes a deep breath, shoves the haze of want aside. His voice is gruff when he manages to speak, “Ride your fingers.”

Betty appears unsure, “Really?”

“A hot girl who gets off on sucking cock? What guy wouldn’t click on that?”

She must believe him, or else she’s just playing at being unaffected and she wants to get off too. Betty’s fingers delve into her folds and she shivers, a soft little sound of pleasure spilling from her swollen lips. Sweet Pea’s now glad he’d lugged the lights in - he can see her clearly, her cunt pink and slick with arousal as she rubs tight little circles over her clit.

He stores away the info about how she likes to be touched. Hopes he’ll get a chance to use it. Her hips rock with her movements and her lashes flutter. His hand had gone lax but she covers it with hers, pressing it to her throat once more.

She glances up at him, her face now flushed, “Squeeze a little.”

Holy fuck.

He tightens his fingers and she moans, shoving two of her fingers into her cunt. He relaxes his grip but she shakes her head, “Keep going. It looks great.” Betty grinds down and leans forward, mouth catching the tip of his cock again. She sucks hard for a moment and Sweet Pea gasps, the sensation sharp and almost painful after the pause. 

Betty grins, clearly pleased with herself. She rests a hand on his thigh. “You can squeeze harder. If I tap twice I need to breathe.”

Then his cock is in the back of her throat again, the pressure so fucking perfect, and Sweet Pea doesn’t have time to absorb the fact that Betty Cooper’s dirtier than he’d ever even dared dream.

He’ll think about it later. Extensively.

She’d done teasing, her mouth bobbing rapidly up and down, her free hand playing with his balls. His head smashes back into the counter when he’s about to come but he refuses to shut his eyes, not when Betty’s pulled back and opened her mouth, is letting spurts of his cum drip across her face.

Her eyes are closed, her face creased in concentration and she leans heavily on him while she fucks her own hand.

Her whole body shivers when she comes, a groan of satisfaction caught deep in her throat. She slumps, breathing hard and Sweet Pea reaches down, cups the back of her neck.

His cock twitches again as he strokes her insanely soft skin. He’s trying to figure out what to say when Betty pulls away, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

She smiles up at him, bright and excited, “That went better than I imagined.”

Betty bounces to her feet and he has no idea how she has the fucking energy.

Sweet Pea’s in the mood for a nap but not Betty. She stands, straightens her lingerie. Casts a critical eye to his cock, hanging limp and spent against his thigh. He fights the urge to cover himself. “How long before you can go again?”

Again with the surprises. 

“Wha... what?”

She blows out a breath, sounding annoyed. “Didn’t you read the contract? I need at least two weeks of material here. I don’t have time to drive back next week.”

Yeah, he’s still not getting it.

Betty seems to give up on him, whirls away. “I’m going to look at the rest of you apartment. See what we have to work with. There’s handcuffs, a spreader bar and some toys in one of the bags.”

If she keeps saying things like that his brain’s never going to be firing on all cylinders.

Betty’s back in the kitchen quickly, which he should have expected. His place is tiny and far from luxurious. He doesn’t even have a bed frame and the couch had been rescued from a curb and sags in the middle.

She pokes at the kitchen table, shakes her head in disappointment when it wobbles.

Betty, of course, has a plan B. Sweet Pea’s ability to be surprised is at an all time low but he still has to ask her to repeat herself when she asks if he can break them into the high school.

She tells him to grab a button up shirt and shimmys back into her dress.

It’s a productive day. A few of Sweet Pea’s fantasies come true. Betty introduces him to some new ideas.

She sends him an e-transfer two weeks later. His cut, more than he usually makes in two weeks.

There’s a note attached, “Are you free next weekend?”

He responds yes immediately.

Sweet Peas uses the money to buy a bed, queen sized with a sturdy frame that he can tie Betty to. Figures it’s an investment.

Betty had sent over all her research. Sweet Pea had poured over it thoroughly. Noted some of the themes found in the most popular porn online.

He’d also found all of her past footage. Has made some educated guesses about the things that actually get Betty off and the things she just does for views. Looks forward to testing his theories and introducing his own ideas for content.

Veronica’s still around, running her businesses. Maybe she’d also be interested in earning some extra cash. 

Sweet Pea might have been slow to catch on but, going forward, he intends to be an active participant in their venture.


End file.
